How
by Heartless
Summary: A beautiful one-shot, BulmaVegeta story. "As his thick, velvety voice murmured into her ear, the meaning behind his words sent her over and beyond the facet of happiness, into the small pool of hope she had kept buried in her heart."


AN: A one-shot Bulma/Vegeta romance. No summary, I wrote it on a spur of the moment and this was the end result. Have fun reading!   
  
NB--Takes place after the Buu saga.  
  
Disclaimer--I have no connection with DBZ, nor the song 'How' by Lisa Loeb.   
  
~*~   
  
A cool breeze soothed the uncomfortable heat that radiated from her body as she stood quietly outside the gravity machine.   
  
She watched him silently, a sick sensation coiling in her gut.   
  
Cobalt blue eyes flashed wearily, looking at the sight before her. The muscles of his tanned back rippled slowly, straining through the effort. He grunted quietly as he pushed himself up from the floor, as though thousands upon thousands of heavy bricks had been placed upon his broad, supple back. She watched as the small rivulets of glistening sweat rolled down his muscled arms with feline grace, pooling onto the hard tiles of the floor beneath him.   
  
A sigh escaped her lips.   
  
A year ago, this image of her husband would have sent her into the dazed heat of a born-again virgin. But now...   
  
She felt nothing. And it worried her.   
  
Was there something wrong with her? Why was she pulling away from him? She just didn't know and it hurt her to admit it.   
  
He was so immersed in his regime, that he didn't acknowledge her presence. He never had done when he was in the throws of his training. It was as though the outside world became a distant memory to him; faded away like a forgotten dream.   
  
Their relationship had not been easy by any means. Had they been with different people, she was certain that they would not have survived these long, arduous eleven years. They barely remained civil towards one another and when that failed; they simply wound up in bed together.   
  
It was a never ending cycle.   
  
She was getting tired of it; she was exhausted by it.   
  
Bulma had thought that after Majin Buu's defeat, he would have changed. He had changed; but barely. She had seen a difference in him since the day of his sacrifice. But after a few days, his character had returned to its former self. They had not been together since before Majin Buu. He had soon returned to his cold insults and biting remarks; some of which had almost, almost driven her to the brink of tears. She didn't know why he was being that way.   
  
She wanted more from him. She wanted a friend, a lover... A proper husband. She knew she would never have that when she and Vegeta had first stumbled upon each other, but she thought that he would be more open towards her after the Majin Buu incident. His change had lasted for only a fleeting moment.   
  
Every time she remotely started a serious conversation, he would turn the other way and seek out his precious gravity machine.   
  
When the going gets tough; the tough goes training. Bulma was certain that was his motto. She had all but given up on him in these past few months and it hurt her to the very core of her heart. But what else could she do?   
  
-----   
  
I didn't come this far,  
  
For you to make this hard for me.  
  
And now you want to ask me 'how'?   
  
-----   
  
Bulma slowly backed away from the round terminal that was the only window to the gravity machine. Clear crystal tears began to pool in her eyes as she made a hasty retreat towards the sanctuary of her bedroom; their bedroom. She hastily brushed them away.   
  
Not tonight; she would deal with everything tomorrow. She would save her tears for another night.   
  
Recently, she had found herself starting to shy away from his touches; his initiations of intimacy. It was unfathomable in her mind of reason, because his touch had always brought out such a response of passion from her, that it frightened her to the depths of her soul.   
  
But now... Now she felt her stomach churn at the thought of his hands upon her, as though she were just a mindless fuck.   
  
That was all she saw herself as and it devastated her.   
  
She was certain that he had seen the change in her, so why hadn't he mentioned it? Was she so worthless to him... No, she wasn't worthless to him; otherwise he wouldn't have bothered to sacrifice himself in the fight with Majin Buu.   
  
She slowly entered the west wing of the compound, trudging towards the bedroom she had come to despise. It reminded her of what she was; a pet, used and then tossed aside. Choking on a sob, she softly closed the door of the large room and turned to face the cold empty bed by herself.   
  
-----   
  
It's like; -  
  
How does your heart beat?  
  
And why do you breathe?   
  
-----   
  
She awoke with a jolt.   
  
Restlessly, she looked over the at digital display of her clock and saw with grim satisfaction that it was three in the morning. Mumbling a string of obscenities, she rolled over to the cooler side of the bed; surprised to find it occupied.   
  
A gasp tore from her throat as she felt her husband beneath her, wide awake and glaring at her with annoyance dancing in his ebony eyes.   
  
Even though the room was dark, his eyes were more so and she could see exactly where they were; staring at her. She looked at him sadly for a moment as he gazed at her with his piercing ebony eyes that held unanswered questions in their bottomless depths. Lowering her eyes from his face, she turned and slowly rolled away from him, a shudder wracking her tiny body.   
  
A firm hand gripped her elbow, halting her from moving away. She turned slowly and raised her eyes to his, frowning as his hand stayed her movements, drawing her closer to him.   
  
"What is this?" He murmured with a low growl, softly brushing his index finger across the remnants of the faded tears that stained her cheek.   
  
Bulma averted her gaze from him, knowing how much he despised tears. She gulped and shook her head, "Nothing," she mumbled, trying to pull away from his grasp; but he was too strong.   
  
"Why are you here?" She whispered softly, "I thought you were training, you normally train through the night." She looked at his cold eyes and felt her stomach twist in a sadistic, melancholy dance of unrecognisable emotions.   
  
"It's hard to train when one's bitchy mate remains standing a few feet away from the door with her ki level, pathetic as it is, yo-yoing up and down as a constant reminder of her annoying presence," he remarked with poorly hidden anger.   
  
Bulma recoiled slightly as though she had been slapped, "Let go of me, Vegeta," she said wearily, brushing away the fall of blue hair that draped over her eyes. "I need to get some sleep; it's late," she continued, "And I have to drop Trunks off at school tomorrow morning, the driver is sick and I don't have a replacement for him."   
  
She could tell he was taken aback by her sullen, quiet voice. She would have torn his ear off by now had he spoken to her like that a few months ago.   
  
He slowly released her elbow from his grasp, but remained watching her silently, like a hunter gazing at its' prey. She was behaving... Oddly as of late and he wasn't sure what was going through her mind.   
  
She turned away with her back facing him, unable to face his wrath as she spoke her truthful words, "I can't keep doing this anymore," she whispered, desperately trying to quieten her shallow breathing. She closed her eyes and willed herself to fall asleep, afraid of whatever reaction he would give her.   
  
He froze as he lay back with his hands under his head, slowly taking in the meaning of her poignant words.   
  
He knew what she was talking about. But the burning curiosity within him could not be stayed; and so he had to ask.   
  
-----   
  
How does your heart beat?  
  
And why do you breathe?   
  
-----   
  
He had known that there was something wrong with her. In the past year, she had been slowly retreating from him, stepping farther and farther away from his reach and it... It was strange, and it pained him. They had not indulged in one another since before the destruction Majin Buu and that had been only a few months ago.   
  
But even before the threat of Majin Buu had appeared, he had sensed the gradual change in her as he trained endlessly in the gravity machine, desperately trying to become stronger at the prospect of fighting Kakarott. It had been then that she had started to retreat, started to withdraw from their nightly sparring sessions in bed.   
  
He was loathe to admit it; but he missed that aspect of their relationship greatly.   
  
"You're starting to talk in riddles like that damn Namek-jin. What can't you do?"   
  
His low guttural voice sent a shiver down her spine, which he could see through the small shudder of her body.   
  
-----   
  
Why did you come here?  
  
You weren't invited.  
  
You were on the outside;  
  
Stay on the outside.   
  
-----   
  
Her eyes snapped open in wonder. He had actually bothered to question her further, when he would normally grunt and dismiss her words?   
  
Bulma opened her mouth to reply, only to find herself pulled back against his lean body, her back pressing against his chest. She could feel the rhythmic pounding of his heart drum against her back. She was thankful for the dark room, thankful that she did not have to face him as she spoke.   
  
"I can't keep going in circles with you, Vegeta. I can't keep fighting with you and winding up in bed as always; I'm tired of it, I'm tired of us," she whispered quietly as she continued, "I don't want to keep doing this anymore; this charade of a relationship. You don't even know your own son, did you know that? Soon, he's going to grow up and he won't need us and you'll find yourself wondering where the time went. It's hurts too much knowing that I'm the only one in this relationship who is willing to share themselves entirely, completely..." She trailed off, fearful of having said too much   
  
She was certain she felt the beat of his heart rise.   
  
"Oh," was the quiet, bitter reply she received.   
  
A dull ache in her heart resounded through her soul as she slowly felt his arms draw back from her waist; setting her free from his half-hearted embrace. It was that gesture that made the decision for her.   
  
She would be leaving tomorrow, on another business trip, knowing that there was something inside of her that had earned her husband's loathing. That somehow, she lacked the essence within herself to be worthy of his love, his devotion.   
  
She closed her eyes, suddenly feeling the lack of his presence surrounding her; engulfing her. And it hurt, by the Gods, it hurt like a life time in Hell.   
  
-----   
  
And now you want to ask me 'why'?  
  
It's like;-  
  
How does your heart beat?  
  
And how do you cry?  
  
How does your heart beat?  
  
-----   
  
Vegeta couldn't find her anywhere. It was as though she had disappeared into thin air! The first few days of her absence had been fine, knowing that she was probably away on one of her pointless 'business' trips.   
  
But as the week drew on, he felt the seed of fear begin to bloom in his chest.   
  
She had left him. That was the only answer he could come up with.   
  
The night she had spoken to him, she had decided to leave him. It was impossible to think she would give up, his woman had a fighting spirit; but she was gone.   
  
A strange churning sensation rose up through his stomach as he thought of the various reasons as to why she had gone.   
  
Initially he had thought she had moved to different quarters. And that thought was unbearable; to think that he was so loathed by his own mate that she was unable to be in the same room as him! But even if she had decided to sleep in a different room, he still would have seen her around the complex. Or at least sensed her; but he found nothing.   
  
Unable to admit it to anyone but himself, he knew he was worried... Very worried.   
  
No one spoke of her absence, and he wondered why. The woman's deranged mother had apparently known as she did not seem worried when she prepared their meals; but he would let the armies of Hell see him fall before he would ever go to that idiotic woman and ask about the woman's disappearance. And he would not even dare to ask his son; his son whom he had no connection with.   
  
He had listened to her words that night and had known; he had gone too far. He thought that the Majin Buu disaster was enough for him to realise his mistakes and change his ways. But a few days of changing his character, his mannerisms, he found that he could not uphold the promise he had made to himself. And so he reverted back to the only way he knew how to be... Cold, distant and cruel on many occasions. He was not a man of feeling, he was not in any way, form or shape an emotional man.   
  
He was, he was himself. And if she could not accept that, then they had no business in continuing their relationship further.   
  
So why did he feel so empty without her; knowing that she wasn't on the other side of the bed, knowing that she wasn't in reach of his arms during the long nights...   
  
Gods, what was she turning him into? Where had she gone; why wasn't she here? He needed her to come back.   
  
He needed... To know that she was safe and well.   
  
-----   
  
And now there are some things,  
  
That I'd like to figure out.  
  
Like you and your letters that go on forever,  
  
And you, and the people that were never friends.  
  
With all the things you could be,  
  
You never could learn how to be me.   
  
-----   
  
It had been two long months on her business trip. Two long, long months in which she had not seen her son, had not embraced him. She had spoken to him on the phone almost every night and she felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders as she stepped into the entrance way of her home.   
  
In the two months of her trip, she had time to concentrate on herself. It had been such a long time since   
  
she had that privilege; but she was glad to say she was back home!   
  
The only thing she dreaded, was bumping into her husband. How would he react? She hadn't told him where she was going...   
  
After the night she had told him how she felt, she had awoken in the morning to find his side of the bed empty... As usual.   
  
Bulma yawned as she kicked off her shoes into the closet that was tucked away behind the front door and slowly made her way to the kitchen. It was dinner time and she was certain that her son would be gobbling up his grandmother's food.   
  
"I'm home!" She cried brightly, freezing in the doorway as she caught sight of her husband and son sitting side by side at the dinner table, munching through the entire stock of frozen dinners. This was not the sight she had expected to see.   
  
Her cobalt eyes locked with Vegeta's, her grin slowly fading as his stony gaze remained on her, his own eyes flashing dangerously as he took in the weathered lines that graced her face.   
  
God of Gods, she had truly, secretly missed him in the two lonely months she had been away from home. And seeing him only confirmed the truth. It was surprising how much difference a little distance made to her perspective.   
  
Somewhere through the exchange of silent emotions between herself and Vegeta, her son had leapt out of his chair and barrelled into her; hugging her with all his might.   
  
"Sweetheart, I think you're squashing me!" She gasped out as his arms came around her. Although, she was used to Saiyan hugs of that nature; experiencing their power from an early age when she had been hugged by her oldest and dearest friend.   
  
Trunks buried his head into her stomach, loosening his grip slightly, "I'm so glad you're home Mom!" He crowed with delight, before returning to his precious food.   
  
Bulma frowned, "Trunks, where's Grandma? Wasn't she here cooking dinner for you?" She tore her eyes away from her husband. She couldn't bring herself to look at Vegeta; she didn't want to deal with him right now.   
  
Her son looked up from his plate of frozen chicken and grinned, "She was here for the first two weeks, then Dad got tired of her and told her we didn't need her or Grandpa to look after us! Grandpa said he had an urgent meeting in Tokyo and he took Grandma with him." He said all of this in one breath, before devouring the remaining food on his plate.   
  
"So then who was looking after you?" She asked worriedly, ignoring her husband's intense stare as she sat down across the table from him, reaching out for a piece of fried chicken before all was lost inside the scrummage of Saiyan hands.   
  
"Dad was," Trunks replied with disinterest.   
  
The mouthful of chicken she had thoughtfully been chewing on, became lodged in her throat at her son's declaration.   
  
Could it be? Could it be that Vegeta had actually taken responsibility and had looked after their son?! It was unbelievably... Frightening. She secretly inspected Trunks for any signs of mental scarring. He seemed fine...   
  
"Ah," she coughed slightly, finally allowing her eyes to wander to her husband's. He had taken care of Trunks? Her confusion and questioning gaze must have been written across her face, as she saw his eyes soften for a moment. She stared at him with open wonder shining in her eyes, a fluttering in her heart caused her lips to curl up into a small, sweet smile; a small amount of gratitude shone in her blue depths.   
  
"Mom. Mom?" Trunks said loudly, breaking the silent spell that had been woven between her and Vegeta.   
  
Bulma looked over at her son and smiled, "What is it honey?"   
  
Trunks stood from the table, burping rudely. He grinned sheepishly at his now glaring mother, casting a conspiratory glance at his father. "Can I go to Goten's tonight to stay for the weekend, please?" He pleaded, trying to hide a smile that was forming on his lips.   
  
In his mother's absence, his father had approached him two weeks ago, finally unable to curb his curiosity. He had told his father everything and saw the unguarded relief shining in his eyes. He knew his mother and father needed some time alone. He hadn't seem them together, alone, in a long time.   
  
"I'm not sure," Bulma said hesitantly, casting a worried glance at her Saiyan husband, "It's late and you don't have permission from Goten's mother."   
  
Trunks beamed knowingly, "Don't worry, I already asked her. She said it was fine, so can I go?" He looked at his mother with desperate eyes.   
  
Bulma sighed and looked at Vegeta, "What do you think?" She normally wouldn't have involved him in the decision, which was proven by the doubtful gaze he returned. But she had gained much perspective in the two months she had been away when she had learned that she missed him, even if there was no exchange of words between them; it was his solid presence she had missed...   
  
"If the boy wants to go; then let him," he replied slowly, unsure if he had given the right answer.   
  
"Ok Trunks, get your night bag ready and I'll fly you there." She said quietly to her son, frowning suspiciously at his crestfallen face. He was about to speak, when his father jumped in before him.   
  
"The boy is almost eleven woman, he can fly there himself," he interrupted purposely, rolling his eyes at his woman's coddling of their son. At this rate he was going to grow up to be a weakling.   
  
Bulma glared at her husband as she retorted, "It's almost nine Vegeta, I'm not letting him go alone!"   
  
"Woman, if you don't let him go, how will he learn to fend for himself? He is a Saiyan, he can handle one little trip by himself," he found himself seething in annoyance.   
  
~*~   
  
Trunks stood mesmerised by his parent's petty bickering. They had never fought over him when he was present! He made the decision for them as he snuck out from the kitchen, deciding he would make his way to his friend's house by himself. He knew he would be in a lot of trouble with his mother after he returned home, but he was certain his father would back him up on this instant.   
  
They had done some pretty strange bonding in the time his mother had been away. It had been--odd, but he didn't take it for granted. He was surprised when his father had told him to train alongside him; he had stopped the sessions after the Buu incident, but now they had resumed their training sessions together and Trunks had found them to be... Fun.   
  
Hard, but fun.   
  
He snickered as he heard his mother's shrill voice rise in agitation as he shut the front door behind him. Pushing his hand into his pocket, he traced the outlines of the capsule containing his clothes. He had packed before she was due to arrive. Without a backward glance, he flew off into the night, shaking his head at the devious plan he had concocted. The plan where his mother would finally see the difference in his father.   
  
~*~   
  
Neither Bulma nor Vegeta seemed to have noticed the departure of their only child. Instead, they glared at one another, both harbouring furious expressions on their face.   
  
It was then that Bulma finally caught sight of the playful glint in her husband's eyes.   
  
They stared at each other for a moment longer, before she promptly lost her furious glare and began to laugh softly, a smile lighting up her face. His face remained stoic as always, but she could clearly see the amusement laying deep within his eyes. "It's good to be back home," she whispered, noting the flickering of restrained emotions that enflamed his beautiful eyes.   
  
How could she ever have doubted her feelings for this man? This wonderful, silent, brooding, handsome man... It was amazing how refreshed she felt after the two month break from her family, but she was ready, willing and happy to enter the cycle of their life once more.   
  
She looked over to tell her son that he could go, letting Vegeta win this verbal battle for now. Her jaw dropped as there was an empty space where her son had been, "Wh--What?!" She sputtered, looking back at her husband, only to find him chuckling cruelly as he folded his arms. "What's so funny?" She demanded, coming out of her sputtered rage.   
  
"He left a while ago," Vegeta remarked cooly.   
  
Bulma frowned, "Why didn't you tell me?"   
  
He snorted and rose from his seat, "Take a guess, woman."   
  
Walking towards her, he stopped and placed an outstretched hand in front of her face, refusing to speak more one the matter. Bulma curiously looked at his hand before allowing her gaze to travel up to meet her husband's.   
  
After the shock had subsided, a moment's hesitation ensued before she gently placed her tiny hand into his, marvelling at the difference in size of their hands. She had never noticed that before...   
  
He pulled her to her feet slowly, bringing her close to him so that their bodies almost touched, "I am sorry Bulma," he choked on the words, but forced them out. The two long months without her had validated the feelings he had not experienced since he had first learnt of her death at the hands of Majin Buu. He never wanted to let her out of his sight, ever again.   
  
She felt her heart pound against her rib cage as the apology slowly left his lips. Not once in their time together had he apologised. Not once. It felt so odd yet humbling, hearing those small vulnerable words leave his lips. For a moment, she couldn't even react.   
  
Drawing in a deep breath she raised her free hand and softly cupped his cheek, staring into his bottomless eyes, knowing that she could drown in them, but not caring at all. "I..." She couldn't speak, couldn't say anything. What could she say to the man she loved with every fiber of her being? A man who had wormed his way back into her heart again, after she thought all was lost. Instead of speaking, she gently pressed her body against his, closing the inch gap that was between the two.   
  
There she stood hugging her proud, silent husband for all she was worth. She raised her lips and crushed them against his, feeling the first jolt of pleasure meander down her spine. Gods, he had never tasted so good... And for once in her life she showed him that she cared through her actions instead of voicing her feelings through the words she wished they shared at times instead of only their bodies.   
  
What were words compared to actions?   
  
Words and actions were of equal worth and they had both learned from one another that they go, hand in hand.   
  
-----   
  
With all the things that you could be,  
  
You never could learn how to be me.   
  
-----   
  
"I will never be the man you want me to be," he said quietly to the dark night surrounding them. He looked down at her as she placed her head upon his shoulder; a feeling of great peace soothed the tornado of emotions that had formed during her absence.   
  
Some time during their session in the kitchen, they had made it to their bedroom, exhausted but sated. Dende, he had never felt so sated in his life! Months of not having his beautiful wife had almost sent him over the edge like an untrained school boy.   
  
He saw her cobalt eyes flash brightly as she looked up at him, nestled into his side. "I know and perhaps that's where I made my mistake," she replied softly.   
  
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the path of their current conversation, "How so?" He asked with poorly hidden interest. As her lips curled upwards into a beautiful smile he thought he had lost two months ago, he pushed her back slightly and moved to lay on top of her, their damp, naked flesh pressing tightly together. He smirked as the movement caused a quiet moan of appreciation to leave her supple cherry lips.   
  
When she didn't reply, he nipped the base of her neck, urging her to speak.   
  
"I made a mistake in thinking you would--" she gasped as his wet lips trailed down the side of her neck, "Change into the man I had always wanted but now--" She stopped again, taking halted breaths as his hand trailed a path upwards, over her thigh to the juncture between her legs. His fingers gently grazed her inner thigh in a teasing motion. Gods, was he trying to kill her?   
  
"But now?" He rasped thickly into her ear, causing a tremor of pleasure to flood into her firm body.   
  
"Now," she forced through gritted teeth, "Now I see that I can't change you, because I don't want to and because you can't change; not anymore. I want you to be as you are, at this very moment, I want this man who has been giving me what I desire and need..."   
  
He stopped his ministrations then and Bulma felt bereft, floating in the limbo of pleasure. She moaned from the loss of his wandering hands searing her curved flesh. She looked up as his obsidian eyes pierced hers in their fervour.   
  
"Vegeta, I love you. I don't know if you love me, but I want you to know that no matter how long it takes, I will always wait for your love." She paused, wrapping one arm around his neck as he stared down at her.   
  
"And you don't want me to change?" He asked slowly, unblinking as his eyes focused on the beautiful face beneath him.   
  
"I realized that you were never of your own making," she said after a moment's silence. She smiled as he frowned, "The man that came to Earth was the making of Frieza," she trailed her free finger over his lower lip, unknowingly comforting him as she uttered the abhorred creature's name.   
  
"You may not see it Vegeta, but I do; you've changed, so quietly that not even I had noticed. Being on Earth has caused you to transform into a man of your own making. You're not bound by the shackles of slavery and servitude; not anymore. For the first time since I've known you, I can see a man of his own making. A man who can have the capacity to love so greatly, that the world itself seems small in comparison," she pulled her finger away as she pressed her lips lightly against his for a feathered kiss.   
  
A tear traversed its way down the curve of her cheek, "I can't help but wonder what type of man you would have become, had you not experienced those long years with Frieza."   
  
He held her close as he touched his forehead to hers', his heart thudding at her truthful words. He gently brushed away the small tear, unable to endure such sadness emanting from his wife's clear blue eyes. "I do not know how to--to 'love' Bulma," he replied slowly. "My only experiences with it has been with you and even then, I do not fully understand it or how you could freely give it to me. I do not understand the concept of it nor the propensity of it's nature... Even with my lack of understanding, I will have you do one thing," he commented as he pressed his lips forcefully against her own.   
  
She cupped his face with her hands, returning the kiss before their lips separated, "What would you have me do, my prince?" She whispered, gently stroking her nose over his cheek.   
  
He trailed his lips to her ear, blowing erotically into it and smirking as she squealed in pleasure.   
  
"Show me how to, Bulma. Show me how..."   
  
As his thick, velvety voice murmured in her ear, the meaning behind his words sent her over and beyond the facet of happiness, into the small pool of hope she had kept buried in her heart.   
  
She would. She would show him, how.   
  
-----   
  
And now you want to ask me 'how'?  
  
It's like;-  
  
How does your heart beat,  
  
And why do you breathe?   
  
-----   
  
End.   
  
~*~   
  
AN: It's late so sorry for the grammar/mistakes in words. Hope you guys liked it, please review and let me know what you thought of it!  
  
*hears crickets chirping in the background* 


End file.
